


i'm so tired of being lonely (i still have some love to give)

by symphony7inAmajor



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Moving On, POV Alternating, Pining, Unrequited Love, and YES kc is the most beautiful man alive, angst tender horny, coping.... poorly, flagrant disrespect for the real schedule, sadhorny(tm), scheif can have little a kiss. as a treat, yes they do fuck many times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:23:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22882864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphony7inAmajor/pseuds/symphony7inAmajor
Summary: Years of pining after Patrik culminate in heartbreak when he tells Kyle about his relationship with Nikolaj. Trying to get over it, Kyle finds himself in bed with Mark.Mark knows this story too well. He's had his heart broken more times than he can count. He'll help Kyle if he can—risking his own heart once more.(that's the thing about broken hearts: they can heal.)
Relationships: Kyle Connor/Mark Scheifele, Nikolaj Ehlers/Patrik Laine, unrequited Kyle Connor/Patrik Laine, unrequited Mark Scheifele/Blake Wheeler
Comments: 12
Kudos: 123





	i'm so tired of being lonely (i still have some love to give)

**Author's Note:**

> heyyyyyy :)
> 
> so this is the first concept i had for kc/scheif way back (like, in january, so not that long ago) and i wrote 2k, took a break, then wrote 18k over reading week instead of doing my, you know, academic writing. whatevs.
> 
> anyway, i was rereading httyd and the line "human hearts are not made of stone. thank thor. they can break, and heal, and beat again." REALLY kicked my ass and basically inspired every thought i've had about scheif and kc moving on from their tragic pining situations. and also in across the universe when the guy is obsessed with the girl's red hair and keeps thinking it looks like what the sunset might.
> 
> this is ALLEGEDLY set this season but again my flagrant disregard for the real schedule ended up lining up with the actual significant road trip to vancouver in march. even when i don't do research i end up being correct smh.
> 
> since this is not only a rarepair but MY rare pair (hand raised, non-gmo, etc) please luv them....
> 
> title from "handle with care" by the traveling wilburys

KC

Kyle is so focused on tying his skates that he doesn’t realize Patrik is trying to talk to him until Patrik nudges his shoulder. He’s half-smiling, like he thinks Kyle being zoned out is funny, but he looks a little bit nervous, too.

“Hey, man,” Kyle says. He tightens his laces and straightens up, tilting his head curiously. “What’s up?”

“Uh,” Patrik says. He bites his bottom lip and glances around the room, then back at Kyle. “Can I, um. Talk to you? After skate.” He picks at a loose thread on his leggings. Everything about his body language screams anxiety, and Kyle doesn’t really know how to respond to that.

“Of course,” Kyle says. He frowns. “You okay?” He glances unsubtly at Patrik’s hands.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Patrik says, his face kind of pale. “Anyway. Yeah.” He fidgets again.

Kyle stares at him, confused. Patrik being nervous makes  _ him _ nervous, because Patrik doesn’t  _ get _ nervous. He wishes he could reach out and take one of Patrik’s hands, make him stop being so stressed and help him calm down, but it’s not his place.

Instead, he plasters on what he hopes is a reassuring smile and stands up. “Come on,” he says. “We can’t sit in here all day.”

Patrik huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes, but some of the tension seems to have left his shoulders. “Okay, I’m coming,” he says, rocking up on his skates to stand. He brushes past Kyle on his way to the ice, tapping him on the shoulder before going down the tunnel.

Kyle looks after him for a long moment, his mouth suddenly dry. His skin feels warm where Patrik touched him, even through the layers of Kyle’s jersey and pads. He swallows hard and, because he really does have to get on the ice, follows Patrik.

Practice is practice. It’s optional skate even though there’s a game tomorrow, but most of the guys showed up anyway. Patrik is still acting weird.

In between line rushes and drills, Kyle keeps catching Patrik staring at him. He’s got a cagey expression and he looks away every time Kyle makes eye contact with him. Kyle isn’t the only one who notices.

Kyle is leaning against the boards and drinking some Gatorade while the second powerplay unit runs some drills. Mark skates up to him, drifting to a slow stop and letting their shoulders bump together.

“Hey,” Kyle says, kicking gently at his skate in greetings.

“Hi,” Mark says. He pauses. “Sip?” He opens his mouth expectantly.

Kyle sighs, but points the bottle in Mark’s direction and sprays some of the Gatorade into his mouth. Mark grins and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Your aim is better with a puck,” Mark tells him. Before Kyle can retort, Mark says, “Why is Patrik acting so weird?” He snatches the bottle out of Kyle’s hand and takes a long drink.

“Excuse me,” Kyle says, but he doesn’t try to take back the bottle. He sighs. “I don’t know. He’s going to talk to me after practice, but.” He shrugs, just as confused as Mark.

“Huh,” Mark says. He hands the now-empty bottle back to Kyle. “Good luck?” He raises a sardonic eyebrow, like he isn’t sure if that’s the right thing to say.

“Uh huh,” Kyle says. He puts the bottle back behind the bench, then the whistle blows and he skates back to centre ice for passing drills.

He  _ maybe _ rushes a bit while getting dressed after practice, anticipation twisting heavy in his stomach. He’s kind of nervous, but he can’t help but wonder if—if—

He shakes his head and forces himself to stop hoping like that. It’s just wishful thinking. Just dreaming.

But.

He can’t stop himself from hoping. Not when he’s been hoping for so long.

He gets dressed and looks expectantly at Patrik, who’s just pulling on his coat. Patrik nods to the door, so Kyle grabs his wallet and phone and heads out, Patrik right behind him.

They pause in the parkade by Patrik’s car and Patrik looks around, frowning. “Can you meet me at that café near your place?” he asks.

“The health food one?” Kyle asks.

“Yeah. I just—I don’t want to have an important conversation in a parking lot.” He smiles crookedly. The familiarity of the expression eases Kyle’s mind.

“Sure,” Kyle says, hoping he doesn’t sound as breathless as he feels. “See you there.”

Patrik looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. He just smiles at Kyle again before getting into his car.

The drive feels much longer than it actually is. Kyle’s hands are sweaty around his steering wheel and he wipes his palms on his jeans before getting out of the car. He tugs his toque down to cover his hair since it is, frankly, his most identifiable feature. He doesn’t want to be interrupted right now.

The café is nearly empty. No surprise there; it’s too late for lunch but too early for dinner. Patrik is sitting at a small table in the back corner, his back to the door. His knee is bouncing and he’s tapping a finger against his water glass.

Kyle slides into the chair opposite him and picks up the menu. He flips through it, occasionally glancing up to see Patrik staring into his glass.

The server comes over before Kyle can ask Patrik what’s going on, so Kyle orders a coffee and looks back at Patrik when they’re alone again. He drums his fingers on the tabletop.

“So,” he says, dragging it out, “are you going to tell me what’s got you so stressed out?”

“Yeah,” Patrik says, and he falls silent. He takes a drink of water. Kyle watches his throat as he swallows. “Sorry, it’s just. I’m not very good at this.”

Kyle takes a sip of his own water and doesn’t push him, even though he’s desperate to  _ know. _ “That’s okay,” he says, his voice soft. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”  _ Please tell me. _

“No, it’s—” His mouth snaps shut as the server reappears with Kyle’s coffee, setting it on the table in front of him.

“Thanks,” Kyle murmurs, wrapping his hands around the hot mug and leaning forward a little to hear what Patrik says next.

Patrik sighs and rubs a hand over his jaw. “I wanted to tell you,” he says, “because you’re one of my best friends on the team, and you have been for a while, and I trust you, um.” He takes a deep breath and seems to brace himself. “Nik and I are dating.”

Kyle feels like the floor has fallen out from under him. Part of him isn’t surprised at all—how can he be surprised when Patrik and Nikolaj have practically been attached at the hip for  _ years _ and he should’ve known—but a bigger part of him just feels sick.

The tiny corner of his mind that isn’t consumed by this revelation thinks that he probably would’ve spilled his coffee all over himself if he’d been taking a sip.

Patrik is looking at him nervously and Kyle realizes that his lack of response is worrying him.

_ Compartmentalize,  _ Kyle tells himself firmly.  _ Think about it later. _ He forces a smile and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. “That’s awesome, dude,” he says. “For how long?”

Patrik smiles, relieved, and tells Kyle that they got together when Patrik got back to Winnipeg after signing his contract, but that they’d been pining after each other for a long time before that. 

Kyle laughs and smiles in all the right places and he’s not even really pretending to be pleased for Patrik because Patrik is so  _ happy. _ It's just. It hurts. Kyle wishes it was him that Patrik would talk about like this, wishes that Patrik had brought him here to tell him  _ anything  _ else.

It’s fine. He’s compartmentalizing.

Eventually, he finishes his coffee and makes up an excuse about having errands to run. Patrik hugs him on the sidewalk before they split up and it’s all Kyle can do not to collapse into his chest and cry.

He holds that urge in until he’s closing his apartment door behind him and kicking off his shoes. He stumbles to the living room, eyes already stinging, and falls onto the couch. He manages to drag his throw blanket off the back of the couch and he wraps it clumsily around his shoulders, tucking his nose into the fabric.

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to picture the way Patrik’s eyes had softened when he’d talked about Nikolaj, the way the corners of his mouth turned up like he couldn’t help it, and he tries not to think about how long they’ve been together without anybody knowing.

Even Kyle didn’t know anything was different and he’s been lineys with both of them this season.

Then again, Patrik and Nikolaj have always been a little weird about each other. A little different. They’re  _ Patrik-and-Nikolaj.  _ Now, Kyle figures, they’re still Patrik and Nikolaj. They just kiss now. And hold hands. And sleep together. And—okay. That’s enough.

Kyle wipes his cheeks with the cuff of his sleeve and sniffles. He kind of wants to call somebody, but he wouldn’t know what to say. Like Patrik said, he’s the first person on the team to know. He wouldn’t be able to explain what’s got him so upset without breaking Patrik’s trust, and he will  _ not _ do that.

He spends a while lying on the couch miserably before he drifts off into a restless sleep. 

It’s nearly dark when he wakes up and his skin feels too hot, too tight. He gets up and shuffles to the bathroom. He avoids looking at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t really need to see how fucked up his face is right now.

The shower is hot and he breathes in the steam, trying to let it clear his head. It doesn’t really work. His mind whirls with thoughts of  _ what ifs  _ and  _ should haves.  _ It’s too late for all of that now.

He scrubs himself dry roughly and puts on sweats and an old hoodie. He doesn’t really feel like cooking tonight.

Two hours and a meal from Skip later, Kyle is standing in front of his bedroom mirror in skinny jeans with two shirts in his hands. He studies them for a long moment, then puts on the soft, light blue one. It’s a little tight around his biceps in a way that makes his arms look nice. The colour brings out his eyes, too.

He’s not handling this very well, maybe.

He shrugs on his coat and heads down to meet the cab. He has a feeling that driving won’t be a good idea.

The bar he ends up at isn’t a place he’s been to before, but it’s pretty nice. It’s clean, anyway, even if the music is a little too loud. He finds himself a seat at the bar and orders a drink right away. The bartender gives him a Look as he hands over the drink. Kyle ignores him.

He’s not thinking about the reason he’s here right now. He’s just thinking about who could make him  _ forget,  _ even if only for a little while.

He turns to lean back against the bar, taking a sip of his too-sweet drink and surveying the room.

There’s a tall, broad-shouldered guy farther down the bar, tattoos twisting up both arms and sandy hair falling over his forehead. He has brown eyes and a strong jaw, and Kyle wonders absently what his stubble would feel like on his neck.

A clean-shaven man with his hair tied back meets Kyle’s eyes and smiles in a friendly sort of way, hazel eyes bright in the dim light of the bar. Kyle must look a little startled, because the guy’s smile widens like he’s amused before he turns away and takes a fresh beer from one of his friends.

Kyle sighs and stirs his drink slowly. He wonders if he should just go home to jerk off and face the consequences of that once it’s over. He shakes his head to himself. That would only leave him feeling even more miserable.

He taps his fingers against the side of his glass and scans the room one more time, and that’s when the guy who was sitting at the table in the back looks up and sees Kyle. His blue eyes go wide and Kyle sucks in a sharp breath because—because it’s  _ Mark. _

* * *

MS

If Mark had a list of all the things he expected when he came to his favourite bar tonight, seeing  _ Kyle _ would’ve been last on it. As it is, all he can do is stare as Kyle slides off his stool and crosses the room to sit down across from Mark.

“Hi,” Kyle says. There’s an uncertain note in his voice, like he’s not sure he should’ve come over.

“Hey,” Mark says. It’s awkward. He doesn’t really know what to say. Like, he’s never run into a teammate at a gay bar before. Both of them know exactly why the other is there. “So, uh. What’s up?”

Kyle winces. “Shitty day,” he says. He shifts in his seat and glances away. “I just. I wanted to get my mind off some stuff, you know?”

Mark has a feeling that there’s a pretty significant story behind that explanation, but he’s hardly in a position to ask about it. He scratches his jaw. “Yeah,” he says, though he isn’t sure what he’s agreeing with.

“What about you?” Kyle asks, and he takes a sip of his drink, looking at Mark over the rim of his glass. “Do you come here a lot?” He sets the glass down and runs a thumb along his bottom lip to wipe away imaginary moisture and—

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Okay.

Mark isn’t stupid. He knows when he’s being hit on, and he knows why Kyle is doing it so subtly. He’s giving them both an out, in case Mark doesn’t want to or in case things get weird. In his head, he hears Blake’s voice telling him  _ this is not a good idea.  _ He doesn’t want to think about Blake right now.

He ignores that little voice and leans forward, propping his elbows on the table. “Sometimes,” Mark says. He tilts his head. “This your first time?”

“At this place, yeah.” Kyle licks his lips. “I’ve got a few other places I like. I thought I might find something good here, though.”

“And did you?”

Kyle’s mouth curves into a tiny smile. “I think so,” he says. He blinks at Mark, his long eyelashes catching the light. “What about you?” He sounds quietly hopeful.

“I think,” Mark says, “that you should call a cab.”

Kyle grins.    


Mark pretends not to notice the relief in his eyes. He gets it. He doesn’t ask who Kyle is trying to get over. He’s been there. He’d be lying if he said he’s not  _ still _ there, but he likes to think he’s doing better than he used to.

If going out to pick up different guys every couple weeks counts as  _ doing better, _ that is.

He doesn’t mind that Kyle only wants him to get off. Doing this as friends could help both of them out and if it makes Kyle feel better, then Mark’s glad to help.

It’s a little weird at first, going back to Kyle’s place. They don’t touch in the cab, and they keep a respectable distance between each other in the elevator. Mark leans a shoulder against the wall while Kyle unlocks his door. His hands are shaking a little bit.

Mark wonders if he’s nervous.

Kyle opens the door and steps inside, already shrugging out of his coat and kicking his shoes into the closet.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Mark says, following him inside. 

Kyle glares at him. “I’m not,” he snaps. He softens a little. “Sorry. I’m not—I haven’t done this before.”   


Mark’s eyes widen. “What, had sex with a guy?” he asks. He doesn’t really think he can deal with taking Kyle’s virginity, or whatever that qualifies as, but—

“No!” Kyle squawks, face red. “With a  _ teammate. _ Jesus, Scheif, I’m not a  _ virgin.” _

Mark just shrugs, reassured and refusing to accept blame for his misunderstandings. “It doesn’t have to make things weird,” he says. “If you just want to, you know. Hook up sometimes.”

Kyle swallows hard, a hesitant look in his eyes. “I, uh—”

“Or not,” Mark blurts. “It can just be once. If you want.”

Kyle huffs. “No, it’s—sure. Yeah. Friends with benefits, that’s, um, that’s good.”

“Cool,” Mark says. He studies Kyle, looking him up and down. “Can I blow you?”

Kyle’s moment of stunned silence doesn’t last very long before he’s saying, “Fuck  _ yes.” _ His eyes are big, like he can’t quite believe this is happening.

“Cool,” Mark repeats. He steps forward enough to push Kyle back against the wall before getting on his knees. He pops the button and slides the zipper down, then gets his hands around the waistbands of his jeans and his boxers so he can pull both of them down his thighs.

“Oh god,” Kyle says, his voice a little higher than normal.

Mark looks up. Kyle’s staring down at him, mouth half-open and cheeks flushed. Mark rubs the outside of his thigh in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture, and Kyle shivers.

Mark refocuses on his task. Kyle is already half-hard. His dick is—well. It’s a dick. A dick that Mark wants to get his mouth on, like, yesterday, at this point, so Mark uses his hand to get him the rest of the way hard before wrapping his lips around the head and sucking lightly.

Kyle’s breathing stutters loudly and his fingers scrabble at the wall behind him. He moans high in his throat as Mark takes him deeper, his hips twitching forward a tiny bit like he’s stopping himself from thrusting farther into Mark’s throat.

Mark takes his hips in his hands to keep him still, pressing forward and sucking firmly.

“Oh,” Kyle says, his voice wavering, “oh, god.”

Mark steals a glance up at Kyle’s face to see his head tip back against the wall, one hand at his mouth like he’s trying to muffle himself. His chest heaves.   


It’s pretty gratifying, honestly.

Not long after, Kyle paws at his shoulder, his fingers curling loosely in his shirt. “Mark,” he stammers, “I’m—I’m gonna, mm, gonna come.”

Mark ignores his warning and presses his tongue to the underside of Kyle’s dick.

Kyle makes a strangled noise and comes down Mark’s throat. Mark sucks him through it until Kyle’s legs shake and he shoves at Mark’s shoulder to get him to stop.

“Fuck,” Kyle breathes. He presses a hand over his eyes, his breathing ragged.

Mark wipes his mouth, making sure he’s not too messy. Now that he’s finished blowing Kyle, his own dick suddenly demands his attention much more urgently. He presses the heel of his hand against the front of his jeans to take the edge and bites the inside of his cheek.

“Wait, wait.” Kyle peels his jeans off the rest of the way and grabs Mark’s shoulders. “C’mon, let me—get up.” He looks kind of silly, no pants but still wearing his shirt, but his face is flushed and relaxed and his eyes are earnest.

Mark gets up, his knees a little stiff from kneeling on the hardwood. Kyle gets a hand in the front of his shirt and leads him deeper into his apartment.

They end up in Kyle’s bedroom. Kyle strips off his shirt immediately, then turns to look at Mark.

“Well?” he says. He looks pointedly at Mark’s—everything.

“Okay, okay,” Mark grumbles, fumbling to take his clothes off. “Pushy.”

Kyle just shrugs and waits for him to get naked before shoving him onto the mattress. He crawls between Mark’s legs, making room for himself between his thighs. He mouths at his hip, his scruff scratching Mark’s skin.

“Is it cool if I blow you?” Kyle asks, looking up at Mark.

“Uh,” Mark says, “obviously.”

Kyle grins lazily. “Awesome.”   


There’s nothing lazy about the way Kyle sucks dick, Mark thinks dazedly, his fingers curling in the sheets of Kyle’s bed as Kyle’s mouth moves up and down his dick.

“You’re good at this,” he says, breathless.

Kyle’s soft laugh vibrates through Mark’s whole body and makes him moan. Kyle pulls off, rubbing tiny circles on Mark’s hip bone.

“You can pull my hair, if you want,” Kyle tells him. His lips are red and spit-slick and Mark kind of wants to push his fingers into his mouth. He doesn’t get a chance, because Kyle takes his dick back into his mouth right away.

Mark gasps and clutches at Kyle’s hair, twisting the soft strands through his fingers and feeling Kyle moan around his dick. His fingers brush against the back of Kyle’s neck. His skin is warm and sweaty and Mark scrapes his fingernails over his scalp.

Kyle’s hand runs up his inner thigh and he presses a finger right behind Mark’s balls.

Mark’s hands spasm in Kyle’s hair, probably pulling too hard, and he chokes on a groan as he comes. 

Kyle swallows determinedly, but he can’t quite get all of it. He sits back on his heels and licks his lips, bringing up a hand to wipe his chin clean.

Mark drops his head back onto the pillow and stares at the ceiling, trying to take deep breaths as he comes down. He rubs his jaw absently. He’s probably going to be a bit sore there tomorrow.

Kyle moves from between Mark’s legs and flops onto the mattress beside him. He lies a couple inches away, not touching but close enough for Mark to feel the warmth of his body. Mark kind of wants to roll over and press close, but that’s not what he’s here for.

“Do you mind if I use your shower?” Mark asks. He sits up and stretches.

“Oh, um.” Kyle blinks at him. “No, go ahead.”   


“Thanks,” Mark says. He pats Kyle’s shoulder and climbs out of bed.

Kyle’s shower is nice. Roomy. Mark borrows his shampoo and wonders absently if Kyle has ever hooked up in here. There’s certainly plenty of space.

Kyle is waiting in the bathroom with a toothbrush in his mouth and a towel in his hand. He passes the towel to Mark before turning to the sink to finish brushing his teeth.

Mark dries off quickly and ties the towel around his waist. He reaches around Kyle to grab the toothpaste and scrubs his teeth with a finger to get the taste of come out of his mouth. Kyle looks at him, unimpressed.

Kyle spits into the sink and puts his toothbrush away. “Gross,” he says when he’s finished.

Mark shrugs and rinses his mouth with water from the tap. “It’s your come,” he says.

Kyle blushes but he doesn’t let his embarrassment stop him from retorting, “You’re the one who wanted to swallow.”

“Okay,” Mark says after a pause. “You’ve got a point.”

Kyle looks smug.

“Ugh,” Mark says. “Whatever.” He leaves the bathroom, ignoring Kyle’s giggling.

He rifles through the mess of clothes on the floor until he finds his underwear, then he gets dressed.

“You’re not staying?” Kyle is watching him from the doorway, his face unreadable.

“No,” Mark says, suddenly awkward. “I mean—I should go home. Game tomorrow, you know?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Kyle says. He bites his lip. “I’ll see you later.” He disappears back into the bathroom and the shower starts a moment later.

Mark calls a cab and heads out. Kyle stays in the bathroom the whole time.

By the time Mark gets home, the pleasant post-orgasm sleepiness has mostly faded, driven away by the chill of the Winnipeg winter. He pours a glass of water and stares out the window while he drinks, wondering if he’s made a mistake.

He pulls out his phone. The screen is too bright in the dark room and he squints as his eyes adjust. He has a few notifications; a couple texts from Adam about some TV show he thinks he should watch, one from his mom with a link to a soup recipe he’d asked for, and one from Patrik.

_ have you heard from KC?  _ Patrik’s text says. It was sent about an hour ago, so probably when Mark was on his knees for Kyle in the front hall of Kyle’s apartment. 

Not that Mark can tell that to Patrik.

Mark frowns, his thumbs hovering over the keys.  _ Yeah,  _ he types,  _ why? _

Patrik answers immediately.  _ he’s not answering me,  _ he says.  _ I’m worried. _

_ We were hanging out,  _ Mark says, hopefully reassuring him.  _ He wasn’t on his phone. Don’t worry. _

There’s a long pause, like Patrik might be wondering why Mark and Kyle were hanging out in the middle of the night before a game day.  _ okay,  _ comes the eventual reply.

Mark winces and hopes he didn’t give too much away. He finishes his water and sets down the glass. He swipes away from his conversation with Patrik and looks at the rest of his text conversations. He thanks his mom for the recipe, ignores Adam’s texts for now, and opens his conversation with Blake.

The last message there was yesterday. Mark had wanted to go over some video before skate and Blake had agreed to come in early to join him.

Mark sighs and leans against the counter. He wonders why he keeps trying. Or, well—not  _ trying, _ exactly. Hurting himself, maybe. He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. He needs to get over it.

He switches his phone off and goes to his bedroom, stripping out of his clothes and lying down under his cold sheets. He stares at the wall and wonders if Kyle would’ve let him stay over. He always sleeps better with someone else.

He wonders if Kyle was able to forget whoever he was trying to get over while they were together.

He wonders if Kyle wants to do it again.

Mark shuts his eyes and rolls over to face the other wall. It’s not the time to think about that. He needs to sleep.

* * *

KC

Kyle almost doesn’t want to go to morning skate. He didn’t sleep very well last night, unsurprisingly, and he doesn’t want to see Nikolaj and Patrik knowing they’re a couple for the first time. Unfortunately, he  _ did _ sign a contract.

He rolls out of bed and goes to the kitchen to make breakfast. He drinks a smoothie and finally checks his phone, not expecting much.

_ Patrik’s worried about you,  _ from Mark.

Then, a few texts from Patrik.

_ I forgot to ask but can you not tell anyone about me and nik,  _ says the first one. 

_ we’re going to tell the rest of the team soon tho,  _ says the second.

There’s about an hour and a half between those texts and the third and final message.  _ Scheif said you guys were hanging out. I was getting worried. see you tomorrow. _

Kyle bites his thumbnail even as he taps out a message to reassure Patrik that he’ll keep his secret. There are only a few things Patrik would assume Kyle and Mark were doing in the middle of the night, and most of those things are  _ fucking. _

Kyle sends Mark a text.  _ did u have to tell patrik we were hanging out at midnight?? _

He finishes his smoothie and breakfast before Mark replies.

_ Sorry,  _ Mark says,  _ I was kind of on the spot. Plus he was worried about you. _

_ it’s ok,  _ Kyle says. After all, it doesn’t matter if Patrik thinks they’re fucking. Not anymore. He puts his phone down and rubs his eyes. His next breath is shaky.

As much as he wants to, he can’t stay home all day and feel sorry for himself. He puts pretty minimal effort into his outfit before dragging himself to the rink.

Nikolaj and Patrik aren’t here yet. Kyle wonders if they spent last night together. If they’re coming here together now. He doesn’t know how he’ll handle it if they do. 

Mark gives him a nod from across the locker room and Kyle waves before turning to his stall, ostensibly to get changed but also to hide his blush. He knows Mark said it wouldn’t make things awkward and Kyle doesn’t want things to get awkward, but.

It’s kind of hard to forget that Kyle had Mark’s dick in his mouth, like, ten hours ago. And vice-versa.

He manages to keep his hands steady enough to get changed and he’s out on the ice before Nikolaj and Patrik even arrive. Mark skates out behind him, doing slow laps around the rink to warm up before grabbing a puck and passing it over to Kyle.

It’s a slow pass, only meant for warming up, but Kyle gets it on his stick, handles it for a minute, then whips it back across the ice to Mark.

Mark yells wordlessly, sprinting to catch up to it. Kyle laughs at him.

They snap it back and forth until the rest of the team starts filing out onto the ice. Kyle can’t stop himself from looking for Patrik and Mark’s next pass slides past him to bump into the boards.

“Hey!” Mark shouts, waving an arm in half-serious outrage.

Kyle ignores him. This is the first time he’s seen Patrik and Nikolaj together since—since he learned that they’re  _ together. _

Objectively, he knows that they’re not going to be acting any differently than yesterday. Kyle didn’t notice anything different about their relationship, and they’re still not out to the rest of the team. It’s not like they’re going to start kissing at centre ice or anything.

Still, though. Part of him wonders if he can tell, if he looks close enough.

He’s had a lot of practice looking at Patrik and his eyes are drawn to him almost automatically. Patrik is standing with Nikolaj—nothing unusual on the surface—their heads tilted close together as they talk. Nikolaj laughs at something Patrik says, flashing his teeth as he grins.

Patrik smiles back, his grin crooked and his eyes bright. He looks pleased, like he’s proud of himself for making Nikolaj laugh.

Someone skates to a stop beside him, bumping their shoulders together and jostling Kyle out of his misery. He jumps, surprised, and turns to see Mark.

Obviously.

Mark is frowning at him. “You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, fine,” Kyle lies. “Just, uh, spaced out for a minute. Sorry.” 

Mark shrugs. “As long as you don’t do it during the game,” he says sternly. He knocks his stick against Kyle’s shins.

Kyle’s retort is cut off when Maurice blows the whistle. They fall silent, and Kyle focuses on hockey.

Practice isn’t too long because Maurice doesn’t want them tired for the game tonight, and Kyle tries to get dressed and leave as quickly as he can once it’s over. He keeps his head down and avoids eye contact with everybody until he’s out the door and finally feels like he can breathe again.

“KC!”

Kyle stops, tense. No luck. He composes himself and turns to face Nikolaj, forcing a smile. “Hey, Fly,” he says. “What’s up?”   


Nikolaj steps closer and glances around. “I just wanted to talk to you for a second,” he says. “I know Patrik told you about, um. Us.” He blushes a little.

“Yeah,” Kyle says. “Uh, congratulations, man.”

Nikolaj smiles. “Thanks,” he says softly. “You’re a really good friend, KC.”

Kyle hopes Nikolaj can’t tell how forced his smile is. “Of course,” he says. “I’m really happy for you guys.”

Nikolaj’s smile widens and he moves closer to give Kyle a hug. Kyle isn’t expecting it and he freezes for a second, but he recovers and hugs Nikolaj back, patting his back firmly.

“Thank you,” Nikolaj mumbles into his shoulder, squeezing tight before he steps back.   


Kyle nods. He doesn’t want to try speaking. He’s scared that his voice will break and give him away if he does. He swallows hard past the lump in his throat. “I’ll see you later,” he says steadily.   


“Bye,” Nikolaj says, then he turns away and goes back the way he came.   


Looking past him, Kyle can see Patrik leaning against his car and watching Nikolaj approach. He turns to go to his own car but can’t stop himself from turning around again.   


He looks back just in time to see Nikolaj wind his arms around Patrik’s neck and pull him down for a kiss. Patrik’s hands are big on Nikolaj’s lower back, holding him steady and keeping him close.

Kyle snaps his head back around, pressure rising in his throat and behind his eyes. He makes it to his car before he does something stupid like cry in the parking lot. No tears fall, but he scrubs his eyes dry with his sleeves before driving home.

He doesn’t do much all afternoon, trying to find things to distract himself from the image of Patrik and Nikolaj kissing. Every time he thinks of it, he feels like he’s been kicked in the stomach. 

He curls up in bed for his nap, but he can’t fall asleep. He feels restless, unsettled, and he drags his palms over his face with a frustrated groan.

Well. He knows one method that might help him fall asleep faster.

He takes deep, slow breaths and slides a hand down his chest, rucking up his shirt so he can trail his fingers over his belly. He shivers and closes his eyes.

He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers and strokes over the soft skin there. He spreads his legs wider, then reaches over to his nightstand and grabs his lube, pouring some on his hand before shoving his boxers down just enough to get his hand on his dick.

He gasps softly, the lube still a little too cold to be comfortable, but he pushes through it. He strokes himself slowly, getting himself hard, and lets his mind drift through his fantasies.

Unfortunately, almost all of his fantasies are about Patrik. His blond hair, his blue eyes, his crooked grin and his big hands. Patrik, over him, holding him down, mouth on Kyle’s throat, hand in Kyle’s hair. Patrik’s hand on his cock. Patrik inside him.

Kyle’s free hand twists in the sheets.

Then, without wanting it, the image shifts. Patrik holding Nikolaj, kissing him, smiling at him.

“Fuck,” Kyle says, voice shaking as his arousal fades. He bites his lip hard and tries to think of something else.

The first thing that comes to mind is last night. Mark, on his knees in Kyle’s entryway, giving him one of the best blowjobs of his life. Mark’s cock in Kyle’s mouth, his fingers tight in Kyle’s hair.

Kyle’s pillows still smell like Mark’s shampoo.

Kyle moans, his hips jerking into his hand as his orgasm builds at the base of his spine, hot and impossible to deny. Kyle’s hand stutters on his cock and he arches his back when he comes.

He lies there for a little while, his limbs heavy and loose. He feels comfortable, finally, and he just wants to go to sleep. His hand is sticky and he has come on his belly, though, so he shuffles to the bathroom to clean up quickly before going back to bed.

He falls face first into his pillows and the last thing he’s aware of before he drifts off is the scent of Mark’s shampoo.

The game is easier to get through than practice now that Kyle knows what to expect. It’s less distracting to see Patrik wrap an arm around Nikolaj’s shoulders to tug him closer on the bench so they can talk, or Nikolaj’s hand on Patrik’s thigh.

Like, he  _ notices, _ but he’s able to shove it out of his mind to focus on the game. 

After they win, which helps him feel better, all the repressed unhappiness that Kyle had shoved down by telling himself to  _ think about it after the game _ bubbles back to the surface. 

Kyle can almost  _ feel _ his face fall.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to do media tonight. He strips out of his gear and cranks the shower heat uncomfortably high. His skin is bright pink when he gets out and the locker room is much colder by comparison. Kyle shivers, goosebumps rising on his skin, and wraps his towel tighter around himself.

He takes his time getting back in his suit, not wanting to be accosted by Patrik or Nikolaj on the way to his car again. When he finally leaves, Mark falls into step beside him. On the surface, there’s nothing unusual about that, but Kyle knows better.

Kyle is quiet for a while, not wanting to say anything incriminating in case there are still people around. He takes a deep breath once they’re in the parking lot, but Mark speaks first.

“Copper’s going out,” he says, all casual. “You wanna come over?”

Kyle doesn’t even have to think before he says yes.

Mark makes sure they get into his bedroom before taking off any clothes, not wanting to risk rousing Andrew’s suspicion in case they forget anything on the floor. That’d be hard to explain.

Once they’re both naked, Kyle climbs on top of Mark to straddle him, grinding their hips together slowly. He ducks his head to mouth at Mark’s throat, gently enough that the marks won’t last.

“No bruises,” Mark manages, breathless, and he gets his hands on Kyle’s hips to pull him down harder.

Kyle’s breathing is ragged and his knees slip on the sheets as he tries to press impossibly closer. Mark grabs his ass and keeps their hips pressed together. Kyle whines, rutting his dick against Mark’s as he chases his orgasm.

Mark’s hand tightens on his ass, fingers slipping just a tiny bit, just enough to make Kyle wonder what it would feel like to have those fingers inside him, and imagining that is enough to send Kyle over the edge.

He doubles over, gasping against Mark’s shoulder as he comes on Mark’s belly. Mark runs a hand up and down his spine while he comes down.

“Hey,” Kyle mumbles, voice muffled against Mark’s shoulder, “can I eat you out?”

“Umm,” Mark says. His face is bright red when Kyle pushes off his chest to look at him properly. He chews his lip. “Have you ever, um.”

“Once or twice,” Kyle admits. He licks his lips. Smirks. “No complaints.”

If anything, Mark’s blush deepens. “Okay,” he says, his voice a little higher than usual, “sure, yeah.”

Kyle climbs off of Mark so they can rearrange themselves properly. Mark ends up on his elbows and knees with Kyle kneeling behind him, Mark’s flush travelling down the back of his neck to stain his shoulders.

Kyle reaches out and gets a hand in his hair, petting gently before trailing his fingers down Mark’s spine to rest just above the curve of his ass. Mark shivers. He has a great ass; typical of hockey players, sure, but, like,  _ really. _ Kyle takes a moment to admire it.

The moment must last too long, because Mark pushes his hips back with an impatient noise. “Come on,” he mutters. His head drops forward to rest against his forearms.

“Okay, okay,” Kyle says, rubbing Mark’s thighs reassuringly.

Then, without hesitating, he gets his hands on Mark’s ass, spreads him open, and licks over his hole.

Mark can’t muffle his cry, his hands clawing at the sheets as Kyle licks at him again and again. His knees slip and his thighs spread wider, desperately trying to get Kyle’s tongue deeper.   


Kyle just keeps holding him open and doesn’t stop. Mark fists one hand in the sheets and reaches back with the other, his fingers tangling in Kyle’s hair to keep him in place. Not that Kyle is planning on going anywhere.

Still, the tight grip in his hair makes Kyle moan. 

Mark is so  _ loud, _ gasping and moaning and choking out Kyle’s name as he rolls his hips in tiny circles in an attempt to fuck himself back on Kyle’s tongue.

“Kyle,” he manages, “please, I want to come, I need—”

Kyle slips the tip of his tongue past Mark’s rim and reaches around to take his cock in his hand. That’s all Mark needs.

Mark comes over the sheets, shaking and almost sobbing and trying to get his breathing under control. He crumples to the mattress, legs askew and hands loosely curled in the sheets. Kyle murmurs to him, petting his hip softly.

Eventually, Kyle decides that Mark has recovered enough and grabs his shoulder, tugging insistently until Mark rolls over and out of the wet spot. Right into Kyle.

_ Wow, _ his face is close. Kyle feels a little dizzy. He licks his lips and watches Mark’s gaze dip to his mouth. It occurs to Kyle that they haven’t kissed yet. He wonders if—

“Hey, Scheif!” The doorknob clicks.

Mark grabs his blankets and yanks them up, half-shoving Kyle underneath the comforter. Kyle flattens himself to the mattress and tries not to breathe. Luckily, Mark is lying between Kyle and the door, so the lump of his body will be hard to see.

“Uh, Scheif,” Andrew says. “Do you have somebody here?”

“No,” Mark lies. “I was just. You know.” Kyle is pressed so close that he can feel him wince.

“Oh, sorry,” Andrew says, laughing. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Kyle closes his eyes and prays that Andrew doesn’t notice that there are two suits on the floor. The light should be dim enough that it just looks like a pile of dark clothes, but who knows?

“I should’ve locked my door,” Mark says. “I figured you’d be out later.”

“Nah, struck out,” Andrew says. “Anyway, Nikolaj wanted me to tell you to call him tomorrow. His phone died and he didn’t want to forget, so.”

“Okay,” Mark says. “Thanks.” 

The door closes and Mark exhales. They wait for Andrew’s footsteps to retreat to the bathroom and for the shower to start up, then Mark pushes the comforter back. 

“That was close,” Kyle says.

“Yeah,” Mark says, rubbing his forehead.

Kyle shifts away from Mark, remembering that he isn’t supposed to be getting cosy like this. “I should head out while he’s in the shower,” he says. 

“Right,” Mark says. Last night, he’d been the one to leave. Why does he look so uncomfortable now?

Kyle scratches his jaw, hesitating, then he gets up and quickly gets dressed. He doesn’t bother with his tie, stuffing it into his pocket before he leaves. He pauses with a hand on Mark’s doorknob, wondering if he should turn around, but he changes his mind. It’s late anyway.

He should go.

* * *

MS   


Mark remembers to send Nikolaj a text reminding him to call in the morning before he falls asleep alone. He’ll need to wash his sheets, too, especially because they leave for a road trip tomorrow night. His cleaner does not need to deal with this.

It’s too late to do laundry now, though, so he settles down away from the wet spot and falls asleep before the warmth of Kyle’s body has even faded from the sheets.

He wakes up late to a missed call from Nikolaj as well as a snide text making fun of him for telling Nikolaj to call but not answering. He yawns, stretches, and sits up before calling back.

“About time,” Nikolaj says, grumpy. “You sure took a while.”

“Sorry,” Mark says. “I was sleeping in.” 

Nikolaj’s silence shows how much he believes that. It’s  _ true, _ though. “Okay,” he says finally. “Anyway. Can you come over? Soon?”   


Mark mentally checks his schedule for the day. Nothing that can’t wait a couple hours, or however long Nikolaj needs. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll come over after breakfast. Give me an hour.” 

“Alright.” Nikolaj sounds almost relieved. “See you then.”   


Mark makes breakfast in silence, wondering what’s going on. The condo is quiet; Andrew is probably out for a workout this morning, so Mark can’t ask him if Nikolaj hinted at what he wants to talk about.

He showers, shaves, and gets dressed, and then he drives to Nikolaj’s apartment. Something like nerves twists in his belly, though he has no real reason to be worried. Maybe Nikolaj just wants to ask for, like, fashion advice or something.

Doubtful.

Mark shifts awkwardly at a red light and flushes hot when he realizes why he’s kind of uncomfortable. He has beard burn on his  _ ass. _ He swallows hard, remembering Kyle’s tongue on his hole.

Not the time for a boner, Mark reminds himself. He’s going to help out a teammate—probably—and he has to  _ be _ helpful. Not turned on because he can’t stop thinking about the way Kyle’s tongue felt inside him.

“Stop thinking about it,” Mark grumbles, barely resisting the urge to bonk his head off the steering wheel.

He manages to think about something less distracting by the time he pulls into the parking lot of Nikolaj’s building and is wholly focused on the task at hand once he steps into the elevator. Okay, maybe not wholly. Maybe ninety-five percent. Eighty percent? 

Mostly focused.

Whatever.

He knocks on Nikolaj’s door, his hands in his pockets. He’s expecting Nikolaj to answer the door, obviously, so when the door opens to reveal  _ Blake, _ Mark feels unsteady. Uncertain. 

“Hey, Scheif,” Blake says. His eyes crinkle when he smiles.

“Hi,” Mark says. He swallows past the sudden dryness in his throat and steps inside. Blake hasn’t moved back far enough and Mark can smell his body wash. Mark toes off his shoes and follows Blake into Nikolaj’s apartment. “So,” he says once he’s decided that his voice probably won’t wobble, “what’s going on?”

Blake shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine. Nikolaj just said he wants to talk to both of us.”   


Nikolaj is waiting for them on his couch, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. He looks up when he hears them come in. His eyes are wide and nervous.

Mark doesn’t even have to look at Blake before they each sit down on either side of Nikolaj. Mark leans close and presses their shoulders together, getting a strained smile out of him.

“What’s going on, Nik?” Blake asks, his voice gentle. He’s always been good at knowing how Nikolaj is feeling.

“I, uh, I wanted to tell you guys together, because you’ve both been there for me when I’ve needed you since I was a rookie,” Nikolaj says. His hands are shaking slightly. “Me and Patrik, um. We’re together. Dating.” He clears his throat. He looks relieved to have it off his chest, but he glances uncertainly between Mark and Blake like he doesn’t know how they’re going to react.

“That’s awesome,” Blake says, smiling, and he wraps an arm around Nikolaj’s shoulders to give him a sideways hug. “I’m happy for you.”   


Nikolaj rests his head briefly on Blake’s shoulder, hugging him back tightly. He pulls away and glances at Mark.

Mark tugs him over to give him a hug, too, smacking a noisy kiss against the top of Nikolaj’s head. “Proud of you, buddy,” he says, pretending not to notice Nikolaj swiping a hand over his eyes while his face is pressed against Mark’s chest. 

Nikolaj’s cheeks are blotchy and his eyes are brighter than usual when he sits back.

“Who else knows?” Mark asks. He doubts they’re the first people to be told, but he can’t be sure.

“Our families,” Nikolaj says, which makes sense. “Uh, Patrik told KC the day before yesterday. Rookie bond, you know?”

_ The day before yesterday. _

Oh, dear.

Oh,  _ shit. _

Part of Mark scolds himself for swearing even in his head, but most of him is shocked into stillness as the pieces slot neatly into place.

“Well,” Blake says, oblivious to Mark’s realization, “I’m glad you told us. We’re here for you if and when you want to tell the rest of the team, okay?”

“Uh huh,” Mark manages.  _ Kyle is in love with Patrik. Kyle is in love with Patrik, and Patrik and Nikolaj are together.  _ How could he not have noticed? They’re his  _ lineys; _ he should’ve been able to tell, somehow.

He sits with them for a while longer, then Nikolaj kicks them out so he can do chores. Blake walks with Mark to their cars. After a long moment, he breaks the silence.   


“You’re okay with this, right?” he asks. Blake is looking at him carefully.

“What?” Mark blinks. “Of course I am. Why would you think otherwise?”

“I saw your face when Nik was talking. You went really pale and—” He makes a face. “I don’t know. I just want to make sure we aren’t going to have a problem.”

Mark bites his lip. Blake is speaking as his captain right now, his voice even and his face stern.

“I don’t have a problem with it,” Mark says firmly. He takes a deep breath and looks Blake directly in the eyes. “It’d be pretty hypocritical of me if I did.” 

Blake frowns a little, clearly perplexed, then his face clears and his eyes widen in understanding. “Oh,” he says quietly. He nods to himself. “Thank you for telling me.”

Mark tries to smile, but there’s a lump rising in his throat that makes it hard. His next breath is a little shaky. He looks down.

“Oh, Scheif,” Blake says, and then his arms are wrapping around Mark to hug him tight. He rubs Mark’s back gently. “It’s okay.”

Mark squeezes his eyes shut against the sting and buries his face in Blake’s shoulder. He can’t explain to Blake that it’s  _ not _ okay—not when he’d have to explain how he’s been in love with him for the better part of the last six years. For now, he accepts what comfort Blake can give him.

Blake’s hugs are pretty comforting, after all.

Mark pulls away, trusting that Blake will blame his emotional state on coming out to one of his oldest friends on the team, not because he is in love with said friend. Blake knows him better than most people, but he still can’t read Mark’s mind. Hopefully.

“See you later, Scheif,” Blake says, squeezing Mark’s shoulders. “Take care of yourself.”

“Bye,” Mark says softly, his heart aching as Blake pats his shoulder one last time before he turns and goes to his own car. Mark watches him for as long as he can, then he gets into his car and rubs his eyes roughly.

He sits in his car for a minute, the heat coming on slowly. He places a hand over the vents to warm his cold fingers, then he pulls out his phone. He hesitates, then he texts Kyle.

_ Hey,  _ he says,  _ can I come over? _

Kyle answers promptly.  _ yeah sure. now? _

_ Yes, _ Mark replies, then he puts his phone away and shifts his car into gear. 

Driving to Kyle’s place gives him a chance to think more on what Nikolaj said. He is truly happy for them; he remembers Patrik’s rookie year, the way he’d followed Nikolaj around like a puppy half the time. Nikolaj has always had Patrik wrapped around his little finger.

In a sense, they’re both his rookies. He remembers them being teenagers in their first years, wide-eyed and nervous, as much as they’d tried to hide it, looking to Mark and Blake for help. They’re all grown up now.

Kyle was twenty-one his first full year in the League. A little older, a little more settled in his own skin, and he’d come and scored thirty-one goals. He hadn’t let the fact that Patrik’s forty-four goals overshadowed his accomplishment slow him down, and he’d worked hard and scored thirty-four the next year.

Mark was proud of him then, and is proud of him now. Kyle is  _ his winger _ just as much as Blake.   


His winger, and he’s been pining after their teammate for who knows how long, and Mark never even noticed. It’s hard not to feel ashamed of himself, especially knowing that this must be hurting Kyle a lot.

Kyle was, after all, wearing his  _ fuck me _ outfit at the bar the other day. He wouldn’t have been doing something that reckless unless he was really miserable.

Kyle is wearing sweatpants and an old T-shirt when he answers his door. Mark notices that the shirt has a hole in the hem, but that’s the last of the inspection of Kyle’s clothing that he’ll be doing for now.

He shuts the door and takes off his shoes, then he steps forward until he has Kyle backed up against the wall. He takes Kyle’s hips in his hands, digging his thumbs in. Kyle tilts his chin up, raising his eyebrows challengingly.

“What, no ‘hello’?” Kyle says, a smile threatening the corners of his lips.

“Hello,” Mark says obediently. He ducks his head, mouthing at the soft skin under Kyle’s ear. He has to bring up a hand to brush his hair out of the way, then he catches Kyle’s earlobe in his teeth.

Kyle shivers, his hands curling into the front of Mark’s coat before fumbling with his zipper and pushing it off. “Come on,” Kyle says. “Let’s not do this in my front hall again.”

That sounds fine with Mark, so he lets Kyle lead him to the bedroom. They strip naked and this time, Mark pushes Kyle onto the mattress and climbs on top of him. He shoves a thigh between Kyle’s legs, giving him something to grind against before leaning down to lick over one of his nipples.

Kyle gasps, hands fluttering over Mark’s head and shoulders. “Oh god,” he says, strained. “Do that again, please.”

Mark does it again, this time letting his teeth catch just a bit.

Kyle writhes beneath him, arching up against Mark’s mouth and spreading his legs so he can rock against Mark’s thigh. It must be uncomfortable with nothing but his precome to ease the friction, but Kyle seems desperate.

Mark stops and looks up, ignoring Kyle’s fingers slipping over his shoulders, his hazy eyes and quiet voice as he asks why Mark stopped. He leans over to the nightstand and grabs the lube that’s sitting on top of it.

Kyle flushes when he sees it. “What, um.” He bites his lip.

“I want to finger you,” Mark says. Might as well be honest about it.

Especially when Kyle blushes so beautifully.

“Yes, please,” Kyle breathes. He shivers.

Mark makes his way down Kyle’s body, slicking his fingers as he kisses Kyle’s thighs. It wouldn’t take much to mark him up here; the pale skin of his inner thighs is practically translucent.

Mark takes Kyle’s cock into his mouth and sucks lightly. He blows him for a little while, listening to his soft, half-muffled noises, and waits for the lube to warm up.

Once he’s decided that it’s good enough, he presses two fingers to Kyle’s hole and circles them slowly.

“Please,” Kyle says, his legs falling open even wider to make room for Mark’s fingers. “Come on, Mark, please.” His voice hitches as Mark slips the tip of his first finger inside.

He’s tight enough that it’s probably been a while since he last did this, if ever—Mark guesses he has, just based on how quickly he agreed to it—so Mark takes his time. He works up to two fingers and leaves it at that because he isn’t going to fuck Kyle. Not today, anyway.

He curls his fingers into Kyle’s prostate, makes him feel good, makes him shake, then he takes Kyle’s dick as deep as he can and swallows around him.

Kyle comes like that, with Mark’s fingers in his ass and his cock in Mark’s throat. Mark fingers him through it until he’s limp and trembling, whimpering with oversensitivity but not asking Mark to stop.

Mark slides his fingers out slowly and wipes them clean on the sheets. Kyle gives him an unimpressed look, though it’s slightly marred by his flushed cheeks and damp eyelashes.

Kyle takes a minute to get his limbs back under control, then he pulls Mark back up, rolling them onto their sides before taking Mark’s cock in his hand. It doesn’t take long until he’s tipping over the edge, pressing close and gasping into Kyle’s shoulder.

They cling to each other like that for a long moment before rolling onto their backs. Mark’s heart is racing. He swallows a few times. He’s thirsty. His mouth tastes like come.

“I talked to Nikolaj today,” he says eventually. His voice is still rough from having Kyle’s cock in his throat.

“Yeah?” Kyle’s voice gives nothing away.

“Mm. He got me and Wheels to come over. Told us he and Patty are dating. Said you know.” Mark resists the urge to turn his head and look at Kyle.

“Yep,” Kyle says. His voice hasn’t changed, really, but there’s tension in his body that wasn’t there before.

“He said Patrik told you,” Mark says, “the day before yesterday.” He leaves all his assumptions there between them and lets Kyle take it how he will.

Kyle’s breath catches. “Yes,” he whispers. That one word somehow contains so much sadness; years of loving someone only to be let down again and again is something that Mark understands well.

During the early years when Mark first joined the Jets, he could’ve used somebody who knew the truth. Somebody who understood. He doesn’t want to let what happened to him happen to Kyle.

Mark rolls over to lie on top of Kyle, forcing a whoosh of breath out of him. He settles between Kyle’s legs and tucks his face into the crook of his neck.

“Scheif?” Kyle says. The sadness has been replaced by confusion.

Mark pats blindly at his side. “It’s okay,” he says. “I get it.”   


Kyle is quiet for a minute, then he turns his face into Mark’s hair and wraps his arms around his waist to hold him in place. “Do you want to talk about it?” Kyle asks after a minute.

Mark clenches his jaw and shakes his head. Maybe someday. Maybe later. But he’s spent six years keeping his feelings for Blake a secret from everyone. Mark thinks that if he opens his mouth to talk about it then he won’t be able to stop.

“Okay,” Kyle says. He falls silent again. 

A few minutes later, his breathing slows and evens out and his arms loosen around Mark’s waist. Careful not to wake him, Mark untangles their limbs and climbs off him. He looks at Kyle’s face, peaceful and soft in sleep. He brushes a lock of Kyle’s hair off his forehead and pulls the comforter over him.

He washes up and gets dressed quietly. He pauses at Kyle’s bedroom door, then goes back in to find his phone and set an alarm in case he doesn’t wake up in time to pack for the roadie.

Mark looks down at him, at his messy red hair and his long eyelashes and his strong nose tucked under his comforter. He knows how warm his bed is. He knows how comfortable Kyle feels in his arms.

He can’t stay. He has to pack for the roadie, too.

He tells himself he wouldn’t be welcome there, anyway.

* * *

KC

Kyle wakes up to the chirping of his alarm. His heart jumps as he fumbles for his phone, near panic because what if he slept through departure? He turns off his alarm and checks the time, rubbing his eyes as he sits up.

He hasn’t missed anything. He has plenty of time to clean up and pack for the trip. He didn’t set that alarm, though.

He runs a hand over the sheets before he gets up. Aside from where he was sleeping, they’re cold. Mark’s been gone a while. Kyle thinks it would be nice if he’d stayed. Mark had held him today, if lying on top of him like a too-heavy blanket counts as holding, and it had been… nice. It felt good to touch for more than just sex.

Kyle steps into the shower. Of course, the sex is good, too. He trails a hand back to brush his fingers over his hole, still sensitive and slick with lube. Kyle’s breath catches in his chest and he focuses on washing up.

He lets himself wonder fleetingly if Mark would fuck him for real. He doesn’t let himself imagine it further, because while Mark gave him plenty of time to get ready, he didn’t factor in a jerk off session.

Kyle finishes packing his suitcase and gets dressed for the plane, calling a cab before making sure he’s got everything he needs.

Moments before he goes downstairs, he hurries back to his bedroom and grabs the lube off his nightstand. He tosses it into his suitcase.

Just in case.

Kyle meets the rest of the guys at the airport. He’s not the last one to arrive, either. He finds Mark and bumps their shoulders together. “Thanks for the alarm,” he says, keeping his voice low. “Would’ve slept through takeoff without it.”

Mark laughs. “Any time,” he says. He tenses slightly.

Kyle pretends not to notice the significance of what he said, brushing past it easily. “Appreciate it,” he says, and smiles.

Mark relaxes and grins. “How are you holding up?” he asks, changing the subject. He speaks gently. It’s pretty obvious what he’s talking about.

Kyle shrugs. “I don’t know,” he admits. “It sucks. But I can’t be upset with  _ them, _ you know?” He’s in love with Patrik, yeah, but he’ll never begrudge Patrik for being happy with Nikolaj. Besides, Kyle loves Nikolaj, too—just not in the same way. He  _ wants _ his friends to be happy. He just wishes it didn’t have to be like this.

“I know,” Mark says, and his gaze drifts away from Kyle like he can’t help it.

Kyle follows his gaze, looking over his shoulder to see Blake talking to Josh and Connor. Understanding blooms in his mind and he turns back to see Mark watching him with a resigned expression.

“I’m sorry,” Kyle says. He wonders how long Mark’s been in love with Blake. They’ve been teammates for more than six years now. Surely, all that time….

Kyle has a terrible vision of himself in three more years: Patrik with a gold band on his finger and his fingers laced through Nikolaj’s, and Kyle, still alone and still in love. He doesn’t want to be like Mark.

“Yeah,” Mark says. He takes a deep breath. “Like I said. I get it.” He smiles sadly.

Kyle desperately wants to know more, but this isn’t the time or the place. He’ll wait until they get to the hotel. Besides, the game is the day after tomorrow. There’ll be plenty of time after morning skate to talk things over.

Patrik arrives almost precisely five minutes ahead of Nikolaj. Kyle knows better than to think it wasn’t planned. He knows they’re spending most of their free time together now. And why shouldn’t they? They’re dating, after all.

Kyle finds his usual seat across from Jack and Mason, Jansen sliding into the seat beside him. Kyle likes to sit with them. They’re his draft year buddies. They’re fun, always down for a game of poker or whatever else catches their fancy.

Today, though, Kyle can’t help but look down the aisle to check on Patrik and Nikolaj. They’re holding hands very unsubtly under a blanket.

Kyle’s gaze drifts to Mark, sitting in the aisle seat beside Blake. They’re talking quietly, but Mark seems to sense that he’s being watched. He looks up and meets Kyle’s gaze. Kyle looks away.

“So,” Jack says, kicking Mason in the ankle to get him to pay attention, “Acey-Deucey.” He smacks his deck of cards onto the table and looks at the rest of them with a challenge in his eyes.

Internally, Kyle groans. He doesn’t really want to play poker right now. He leans forward anyway, collecting his five cards as Jack deals them. He’ll never pass up an opportunity to swindle his teammates out of some money.

By the time the plane lands, Kyle has significantly more cash in his wallet than he did before and three teammates who are much sulkier. He ignores their pouting and gets off the plane before they have a chance to steal their money back.

Kyle makes sure to sit with Josh on the bus, just to keep his wallet safe.

It’s not that late by the time they get to the hotel and supper was served on the plane, so Kyle doesn’t have much to do when he gets to his room. He takes a quick shower and changes into comfier clothes, but it’s too early to fall asleep just yet.

He slips on his running shoes and heads out. Mark’s room is only a couple doors down.

Kyle knocks. He waits for Mark to answer the door, then wonders if he should be doing this. They haven’t talked about how their arrangement will work on the road. He shakes off his doubts. They’re still friends; he can hang out in his hotel room if he wants to without making things weird.

Mark opens the door before Kyle can talk himself out of it. He looks surprised to see Kyle, but he looks pleased, too. He lets Kyle in without a word.

Kyle kicks off his shoes and follows Mark inside. The TV is on, but it’s muted. Mark grabs the remote and switches it off. It’s quiet enough that Kyle can hear Mark breathing.

He doesn’t bother pretending he’s here for a different reason. He takes the hem of his shirt in his hands and pulls it over his head, then cocks his head at Mark.

Mark grins.

A little while later, when they’ve both come and are lying close together, Mark turns the TV back on. Some goofy looking movie from the eighties is playing, already half-over, but Mark doesn’t bother changing the channel.

Kyle stares at the screen, not really processing anything that’s going on. Now that they’re done, lying naked in the messy sheets, he’s starting to feel the chill of the hotel room. Mark never turns the heat up enough. He shivers.

Mark looks over at him. “You okay?”

Kyle has goosebumps. He rubs his arms, trying to warm up. “Yeah, just cold.” He wrinkles his nose. “Would it kill you to turn up the thermostat?”

Mark makes a face. “I like it colder for sleeping. Anyway, just—c’mere.” He gets an arm around Kyle’s shoulder and tugs him close.

Kyle ends up pressed securely against Mark’s side, his cheek resting on his chest and his arm wrapped around Mark’s waist. Beneath the sheets, their legs are tangled together. It’s comfortable. Warm.

Kyle closes his eyes and drifts on the feeling of Mark’s chest rising and falling, and he slowly falls asleep.

The next time he opens his eyes, the room is dark. The TV is off, as is the lamp, and only a tiny bit of orange light is shining through the crack in the curtains. Kyle’s face is turned into the crook of Mark’s neck, his arm still tight around Mark’s waist. Mark’s arm is around Kyle’s shoulders, holding him close.

Kyle lifts his head just enough to look at Mark’s face, dark with shadows but still loose in sleep.

Kyle snuggles back into Mark’s chest. He doesn’t even think about leaving.

Mark’s alarm wakes him up the next morning. Kyle jumps, almost sitting bolt upright in surprise, but Mark’s arm around him keeps him where he is.

“Scheif,” Kyle says, trying not to laugh, “you’ve gotta let go. I’ll turn off your alarm, okay?”

Mark grumbles a bit, but he loosens his grip enough for Kyle to grab his phone off the nightstand and turn off the alarm. As soon as it’s silent, Mark pulls him back on top of him.

“Five more minutes,” he says.

“Mmkay,” Kyle says. It’s not hard to persuade him. He likes this, likes lying here with Mark.

The longer they lie like this, though, the harder—hah—it gets to ignore the fact that Kyle is half-hard against Mark’s hip. He was plastered against Mark’s naked body all night, sue him.

Mark hand drifts from his shoulder to cup his ass. He squeezes gently, getting Kyle to gasp against his shoulder. “Come on,” Mark says.

That’s all the instruction Kyle needs to shift properly on top of Mark, lying between his legs. It’s slow and easy and warm, and Kyle feels like he’s moving through molasses as he rocks his hips down into Mark’s. They don’t have any lube, but Kyle feels like he’s been on the edge for a lot longer than he’s been awake. It doesn’t take much to have him shaking, heat building at the base of his spine.

He gets a hand around their cocks and buries his face in Mark’s shoulder right before they come together.

Mark curls a hand around the back of his head, scratching through Kyle’s hair gently. “Let’s shower,” he says. “We don’t have time for two.”

It’s nice to shower with Mark, even though the shower is a little too small for two guys who are both over six feet tall. And even though Mark smacks a handful of shampoo on top of Kyle’s head and scrubs his hair determinedly.

So much for saving time.

Kyle puts on last night’s clothes and checks the hall before hurrying back to his room to change before breakfast.

He’s sitting on the bench at morning skate when Jack and Mason jump over the boards to sit on either side of him. He feels a bit like he’s ended up in the middle of a sandwich.

“Where were you last night?” Jack asks. He leans down to grab his water bottle, like he’s casually curious.

“Nowhere,” Kyle answers. It’s not even really a lie. He never left the hotel.

“Really,” Mason says, “because when we went to your room to see if you wanted to hang out, you weren’t there.”

Kyle feels his ears burn. “Maybe I was sleeping,” he says. “I don’t know.”

Jack and Mason exchange a knowing look as if Kyle isn’t even there. It’s kind of disturbing.

“Sure,” Mason says.

“Whatever you say,” Jack says.

Kyle winces. He hopes they don’t try any harder to investigate.

He doesn’t get a chance to talk them out of snooping before the whistle blows and he has to skate to centre ice for line rushes.

Kyle tries to avoid Mason and Jack after practice, sitting far away from them on the bus and walking fast to get back to his room. He relaxes a bit when the door closes behind him. He really does not need two more teammates to get mixed up in this mess just because they’re too curious for their own good.

His mattress feels too hard when he lies down. He can’t stop worrying about the team noticing—Mason and Jack are hardly the most intellectual pair and they’ve already figured out that something’s up. Kyle flips over again, struggling to relax.

He stares at the ceiling and sighs. He grabs his phone.

_ can’t sleep,  _ he texts Mark. It’s not an invitation, not exactly, but he knows what Mark will think.

Mark doesn’t answer. Kyle figures he’s gone to sleep, too.

Two minutes later, there’s a knock at his door. Kyle gets up and shuffles to the door. He wonders if it’s Jack and Mason checking up on him again. It isn’t.

It’s Mark.

He’s wearing a hoodie and sweats and he brushes past Kyle easily.

“Um,” Kyle says, turning to watch.

Mark takes off his hoodie to reveal a worn T-shirt and drops his sweats, climbing into bed in his boxers and shirt. He glances back at Kyle and pats the bed beside him. “Well?” he says expectantly.

Kyle follows him, curling up close beside him but not so close to be presumptuous. Mark shifts closer and wraps an arm around his waist, spooning him effectively. It’s nice, being held. He exhales.

“Hey,” Mark murmurs. “Alarm?” His lips brush the back of Kyle’s bare shoulder when he speaks.

“Set,” Kyle says. He closes his eyes and pats the back of Mark’s hand where it rests over his sternum. “Sleep now.”

Mark hums agreeably and doesn’t speak again.

* * *

MS

The road trip is a week long. Three games. It passes quickly, as always. It’s mostly normal.

Mostly.

Every night, every  _ nap, _ Mark falls asleep with Kyle in his arms. Sometimes, they don’t even fuck beforehand; though they usually do. Mark doesn’t think he’s had so many orgasms in such a short span of time in his  _ life.  _ Kyle is determined to figure out all the ways he can make Mark come undone.

Naturally, Mark does the same.

They’re professional athletes. It’s their job to be competitive, to want to be the best. Of course that applies to sex.

Over the week-long road trip, they spend the days skating and playing, and the nights in bed learning how to take each other apart.

Once, Kyle makes Mark come untouched by slipping a finger inside him while eating him out. Mark answers the challenge by holding Kyle’s hips down and edging him until he’s almost in tears before Mark finally lets him come.

They learn what they like outside of sex, too. Mark learns that Kyle likes his hair played with while cuddling, and that a strategically placed rub at the base of his skull can make him go limp and pliable. They both like to cuddle after sex, and Mark graciously allows Kyle to be the little spoon every time.

It’s no hardship.

They win the last game of the trip, ending on a high note. They’re not flying out until mid-morning tomorrow.

Kyle has a gleam in his eye when he looks at Mark on the bus. It makes something flutter in Mark’s chest.

Kyle pauses beside him in the hotel lobby just long enough to curl his fingers around Mark’s wrist and whisper, “Meet me in my room in half an hour?”

Mark nods, just once, and Kyle moves on. Mark is abruptly thirsty and he heads down one of the hallways off the lobby to find a vending machine. Footsteps approach while he waits for his Gatorade and he turns to see Blake.

He turns back, taking a deep breath to compose himself. “Hey, Wheels,” he says.

“Scheif.” Blake pauses. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Mark takes his bottle out and gets a fingernail under the plastic wrap, leaning back against the machine to look at Blake. “Sure,” he says. “What’s up?”

“Stop me if I’m wrong,” he says carefully. “But, uh, you and KC—”

Mark’s hand freezes where he’s trying to peel the plastic. His heart skips in his chest and he swallows hard, realizing that he’s just given himself away.

“Oh,” Blake says. Mark can’t look at him. Blake grasps his shoulder firmly, startling Mark into looking up at him. Blake has a half-smile playing at his lips. “I’m happy for you.” He speaks decisively and his eyes are clear and bright and proud, and Mark can’t tell him that he started fucking Kyle to get over  _ him. _

“Thanks,” Mark whispers.

Blake’s face is pleased, nothing that might hint at other feelings. Obviously. Blake is  _ married,  _ and no matter how much Mark might’ve hoped for things to be different, Blake was never going to leave his wife because Mark started hooking up with another teammate.   


If he was that kind of guy, then Mark wouldn’t have fallen for him in the first place.

Blake squeezes his shoulder and smiles. “Tell KC that I’m here if either of you ever need anything,” he says. "And be careful, you know?" He walks away before Mark can say anything else, leaving Mark standing by the vending machine with blue Gatorade in one hand and crumpled plastic in the other.

Mark feels less cheerful than he had just a few minutes ago, but he goes to his room to clean up and change for Kyle anyway. He could use a distraction right now. And a hug.

He drinks his Gatorade and waits for the half-hour to pass, then he walks down the hallway to Kyle’s room. He goes in without knocking.

Kyle is sitting in bed, only wearing his boxers. His skin is flushed from his ears to his cheeks to his chest. His knees are drawn up slightly, but not enough to hide that he’s already hard. The only light on is the bedside lamp, casting gentle golden light and deep shadows over the room.

Mark walks to the bed, ridding himself of clothes as he goes. He’s down to his boxers when he climbs into bed, settling comfortably into the space Kyle makes for him between his legs.   


“Hi,” Kyle says. His voice is breathy, like it usually gets when they’ve been at it for a while. 

Mark props himself up on his elbows and raises his eyebrows at Kyle, rolling his hips down to make him gasp while he speaks. “Did you start without me?”

Kyle curls his fingers over Mark’s shoulders. “Maybe,” he says slyly. He arches his hips. “Guess you’d better check.”

Mark bites at his jaw for that, gentle enough that it won’t leave a mark. Kyle just laughs at him.

Kyle helps a little as Mark hooks his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down slowly. Mark tosses them onto the floor and Kyle wraps his legs around Mark’s waist to pull him close again.

It doesn’t take long to figure out what Kyle was doing.   


Mark’s fingers dip behind his balls, sliding through the lube there. He moves deeper, pressing his dry fingers against Kyle’s hole. He’s so wet, so open. Mark’s breathing quickens.

Kyle shudders at the touch, but he manages to reach up and pull lube and a condom out from under his pillow. “I want you to fuck me,” he says.

Mark swallows hard. This is the one thing they haven’t done; there’s never been time, always a game or practice that would be uncomfortable after being fucked.

But Kyle looks determined; Kyle opened himself up for Mark on his own fingers.

Mark wishes he’d been able to watch. He wishes he’d done it himself.

“Please?” Kyle says, and Mark remembers that he hasn’t answered yet.

“Yes, yeah,” Mark blurts, sitting back so he can wriggle out of his own boxers. He wants this, wants to focus on nothing but Kyle for a little while so he doesn’t have to think about anything else.  _ Anyone _ else.

Mark rolls the condom on with shaky fingers, but he slicks up his fingers and slips two into Kyle before doing anything else. Kyle jerks and moans, his head falling back to reveal the tempting arch of his throat.

He did a good job getting himself ready. Mark is able to push a third finger inside easily.

Normally, Kyle likes when Mark takes his time fingering him. It’s something that Mark can rely on to drive Kyle crazy. Today, though, Kyle has a goal in mind and he wants to stick to his plan. He doesn’t let Mark fuck him with his fingers for long before shoving at his shoulders until Mark pulls them out.

Even though Kyle wanted it, he still whines at the empty feeling. Mark manages to laugh as he spreads lube onto his cock.

He stops laughing when he gets his cock inside Kyle. The slide is easy, but Kyle is still hot and tight around him and it’s almost overwhelming. Mark drops his head to Kyle’s shoulder, breathing hard as he tries not to come instantly. Kyle’s fingernails are bright points of pain in his shoulders, his breathing ragged.

“Okay?” Mark manages after a minute.

Kyle nods. “Good,” he murmurs. He rolls his hips back into Mark’s and they both groan.

From there, everything is a bit of a blur. All Mark knows is the warmth of Kyle’s skin under his hands, the hot clench of his body, the soft sounds he makes as Mark fucks him harder. His blue eyes are hazy and dark, his hair a mess on the pillow. His skin is so red.

Kyle isn’t as loud as he’s been before, probably because they’re in a hotel with teammates all around them, but he gets a hand in his mouth and bites down hard into the meat of his palm to muffle himself. His other hand is braced against the headboard to keep himself from being pushed up the bed.

Heat builds low in Mark’s belly and he wraps a hand around Kyle’s dick, jerking him off in time with his thrusts. He wants Kyle to come first.

He gets his wish; Kyle’s noises peak with a high-pitched moan and he comes between them, spilling onto his belly. His body tenses, squeezing around Mark’s cock, and that’s it for him, too.

Mark buries his face in the crook of Kyle’s neck, muffling his moans as he fucks Kyle through his orgasm with tiny, grinding thrusts.

He pulls out, murmuring apologies into Kyle’s ear when Kyle shivers at the uncomfortable sensation, then he collapses on top of him. Kyle runs a hand up and down his spine, his touch light but not light enough that Mark can’t feel the dull sting of the scratches Kyle’s fingernails left on his skin.    


He can’t bring himself to care that Kyle left marks.

Kyle’s other hand curls in Mark’s hair, petting gently until their breathing evens out and Mark no longer feels like his bones have melted.

Kyle squeezes the back of his neck. “Okay, I can’t breathe,” he says, a bit of a wheeze in his voice.

Mark rolls off of him, lying flat on his back to stare up at the ceiling. Kyle sits up beside him. He winces.

“Sorry,” Mark says, reaching out to pat his hip.

Kyle wraps his fingers around Mark’s hand. “It’s okay,” he says. “I wanted it. I liked it.” 

Mark swallows hard. Kyle lets go of his hand and slips out of bed, walking to the bathroom with only slightly wobbly legs. Mark can’t help but feel smug about that.

A moment later, the shower starts up. Mark narrows his eyes and follows Kyle to the bathroom. Sure enough, the door is ajar.

Kyle smiles when Mark steps into the shower with him, moving close to lather his chest with soap. They stay in the shower long enough that their fingers are wrinkled and pruney by the time they get out, but at least they’re both extremely clean.

Mark curls up with Kyle in his arms and doesn’t think about Blake. He doesn’t think about how Kyle wishes Mark were somebody else. He just presses his face to the back of Kyle’s neck and breathes in the clean scent of his skin before he falls asleep.

After that trip, something seems to change. It’s not super obvious; at least not at first. They keep hooking up at home, usually at Kyle’s place but sometimes at Mark’s if Andrew is out. On roadies, they spend the nights together even when they’re too tired to fuck.

The difference now is that they spend nights together at home, too. Mark gets used to waking up in Kyle’s bed, he gets used to having breakfast with him, and he gets used to making excuses to Andrew about why he hasn’t been home recently.

Blake gives him significant looks, sometimes, usually when Mark leans close to Kyle to tell him something, or when Mark makes Kyle laugh on the bench. The looks aren’t exactly expectant, but he seems to be waiting for something. Mark doesn’t know what. He tries not to think about it.

Then, exactly one month after that night at the bar, Blake stands up in the locker room after a win and gets everyone to settle down. Mark frowns, but waits patiently to see what Blake wants to say.

“Hey,” Blake says, raising his voice so everybody hears him. “Patrik has something he wants to say.”

And Patrik stands up.

Mark realizes what he’s going to say the second before he says it, his gaze flicking from Patrik to where Kyle is sitting on Blake’s other side. Kyle is watching Patrik with wide eyes, but he seems to feel Mark watching him. He looks over, their eyes meeting across the room. Mark’s heart twists.

“Some of you guys already know what I’m going to say,” Patrik says, speaking slowly in a way he hasn’t done since he was a rookie, mindful of his English and not wanting to screw up, “but I—we thought it would be easier to tell the rest of you like this.” He swallows hard.

The room is quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Every eye is on Patrik.

“Me and Nikolaj are dating,” he says, with that brisk honesty he’s so good at.

There’s a pause. Then the guys who already knew congratulate them for telling everybody, and most of the ones who didn’t know offer their own congratulations.

Mark is so focused on Kyle’s weak, forced smile that he doesn’t notice that Blake is standing right beside him until he speaks.   


“Do you think you’ll ever want this?” Blake asks. His voice is low so nobody overhears, even though the rest of the team is gathered near Nikolaj and Patrik’s side of the locker room.

Mark jumps, startled. “Uh,” he says. He watches Kyle stand up and make for the showers, his shoulders tense. “One day, maybe.” He turns to look at Blake once Kyle disappears.

“I’m here for you if you need me,” Blake says with a reassuring smile.

Something twists in Mark’s belly; something unfamiliar. He struggles to keep his expression from changing. “I know,” he manages, “thank you.”

He acquiesces to going out with the team to celebrate the win, as well as Nikolaj and Patrik’s relationship. He keeps his ankle hooked around Kyle’s ankle under the table until they find a chance to slip away unnoticed.

Kyle fucks him that night, plastered against Mark’s back and holding him down against the mattress. Mark could push him off if he wanted. He could get more leverage. He doesn’t want to. He likes it like this, likes how Kyle presses his mouth to Mark’s shoulders and neck while he rocks into him slowly, likes how he can hear Kyle’s quiet noises so close to his ear, likes how Kyle whispers to him and tells him how good he feels. How good he  _ is. _

Mark curls his hands tight into the sheets and bites down on the pillow, and comes with a sigh and Kyle deep inside him.

Kyle pulls out after he’s done and gets rid of the condom. He curls into Mark’s chest, tucking his head under Mark’s chin. He’s trembling a little.

“You alright?” Mark asks softly.

Kyle exhales and pushes away from Mark enough to meet his gaze. “I think so,” he says, and he bites his lip and frowns like he isn’t sure if he should be. “I didn’t—I didn’t think I would be, but I am.”

Mark squeezes his hip. “Me, too,” he says, because he’s had time to think about it, now, and he knows that what he felt around Blake today wasn’t the same despairing infatuation he’s felt for him for so long.

Kyle mumbles something that Mark can’t make out, but when he looks closer, Kyle has drifted off to sleep. Mark reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear and watches Kyle’s face until he can fall asleep, too.

* * *

KC

A few days after Patrik and Nikolaj came out to the team, Mark drives to Kyle’s place but he doesn’t come inside. Instead, Kyle gets a text from him telling him to come down. It’s freezing outside; a typical Winnipeg winter evening, but Mark seems set on whatever his idea is.

Kyle sighs, put upon with nobody to see, and gets his coat.

Mark looks pleased to see him when Kyle gets in the car. Kyle didn’t put gloves on and he presses his pale hands against the heating vents to warm up.    


“This better be good,” Kyle grumbles.

Mark’s smile widens. “It will be,” he says cheerfully.

Mark drives to the movie theatre, which Kyle finds a little strange. He didn’t think it would be something so  _ simple. _ Still, there’s something about how simple it is that makes butterflies flutter in Kyle’s stomach.

He’s  _ not _ overthinking it.

He talks Mark into buying him popcorn despite his initial resistance to the idea, persuading him that they can cheat their diets a little bit if they have to go out into the cold and not into bed.

Mark already has tickets, which makes Kyle think he’s been planning this and it isn’t just impulse. Kyle doesn’t let himself think about what that might mean. 

They find their seats in a mostly-empty theatre and Kyle sits close enough to Mark that their shoulders press together. It’s easier to share the popcorn that way.

The movie is about halfway through when Kyle feels a light touch against the back of his hand. He looks down and sees Mark’s hand resting tentatively on top of it. He bites his lip and glances at Mark.

Mark is staring ahead, not looking at Kyle but probably not really seeing the movie either. Kyle watches his throat work as he swallows.

Kyle looks back at the movie and exhales quietly. He turns his hand so his palm is pressed to Mark’s. Mark’s hand is warm, rough with calluses but still soft where he weaves his fingers through Kyle’s. His touch still feels uncertain, like he might pull away at any second.

Before that can happen, Kyle squeezes his hand tight, reassuring Mark with the strength of his grip. He doesn’t look over, not wanting to risk breaking this fragile moment, but he feels something settle inside him when Mark’s fingers flex around his hand, Mark relaxing into his seat beside him.

Kyle doesn’t really pay attention to the rest of the movie. Mark’s hand in his makes Kyle think of all the times Mark has had that hand on his body, in his hair, on his cock. He hopes Mark doesn’t notice the way Kyle’s breathing gets a little unsteady.

_ Not the place,  _ Kyle reminds himself. He tries to think of other things so he doesn’t get a boner in the very public movie theatre.

All his thoughts spiral back to Mark holding his hand.

He drifts on it, thinking about Mark holding his hand under different circumstances. Mark holding his hand while they walk along the river, Mark holding his hand over the table at a fancy restaurant, Mark pinning his hand against the mattress while—okay,  _ no, _ not helpful.

He counts backwards from ninety-nine with jersey numbers until the movie ends.

Mark lets go of his hand. The lights come on.

Kyle’s palm is sweaty. He wipes it against his jeans, hoping Mark doesn’t notice, then he stands up and leads the way out of the theatre.

The air outside is bracingly cold, one of those fierce winds coming off the prairies that no amount of tall buildings seems to stop. Kyle tells himself that’s the reason Mark leans into his side while they walk to his car. He tells himself that Mark is only wrapping an arm around his shoulders to lead him there.

He ignores the way warmth spreads from his belly into his chest and face at the gesture, and tells himself the only reason he winds his arm around Mark’s waist is to make it easier to walk with him.

They have to separate to get into the car and Kyle doesn’t think about why he feels colder than the wind can explain, climbing into the passenger seat to crank up the heat. He holds his hands over the vents and ignores Mark’s whining about how he’s hogging the warm air. His hands are cold, sue him.

Mark abruptly grabs one of his hands and pulls it away from the vent. He doesn’t let go, holding his hand tightly over the gearshift. “Stop it,” he says.

Kyle laughs. “You have a heated steering wheel and heated seats,” he says. “You don’t need the vents.”

“Maybe I like the vents,” Mark says.   


Kyle grins and doesn’t let go of Mark’s hand. His hand is warmer than the vents, anyway.

They’re on each other as soon as Mark’s door closes behind them.

Mark pushes Kyle’s sweater up to get his hands on his bare skin while Kyle sucks a bruise into his throat. Mark’s hands are still cold, making Kyle shiver with every touch until they warm up and even after that.

Kyle draws away and stares up at Mark, their two inch height difference much more noticeable when they’re pressed together like this. Mark looks at him for a long moment. His hands slip to Kyle’s waist.

For a single terrifying, exhilarating second, Kyle thinks Mark is going to kiss him.

He doesn’t.

Mark pushes his thigh between Kyle’s legs to give him something to grind against, rocking his own hips against Kyle and burying his face in Kyle’s shoulder. Kyle can hear his breathy moans as they rut against each other like teenagers, heat pooling low in his belly.

“Wait,” he gasps, shoving Mark back a step. He sags against the wall, his legs unexpectedly shaky. He gives Mark a long look up and down and pushes away from the wall. He curls his hands into the front of Mark’s shirt. “Bedroom. Fuck me.”

Mark looks almost stunned to hear him say that, but he follows Kyle to the bedroom with a gleam in his blue eyes.

Kyle grins at him, sure he looks semi-wild himself, and pulls Mark down on top of him.

Mark’s fingers press into him with familiarity and ease, opening Kyle up with the kind of precision that comes from practice. Well, Kyle thinks, tossing his head back as Mark rubs his prostate, he has had a  _ lot _ of practice.

The empty feeling of Mark pulling his fingers out has Kyle choking on a groan, arching his back as he stares at Mark through half-closed eyes.

He watches Mark put the condom on and spread lube onto his cock. He lets Mark push his thighs up and apart, shaking as Mark finally pushes inside.

Kyle clutches at Mark’s shoulders as Mark bottoms out, hard enough that Mark grits his teeth against the ache. Mark’s fingers dig into Kyle’s thighs. There’ll probably be bruises there tomorrow, stark purple and unmistakably fingerprints against the pale skin. Kyle can’t bring himself to give a shit.

“Fuck,” Kyle breathes, loosening his grip on a long sigh. He pets over Mark’s shoulders to soothe any pain. He rolls his hips back against Mark. It feels  _ good. _ “‘m ready,” he mumbles.

Mark bites his tongue and winces visibly at the sting in his shoulders. Kyle laughs, the sound breaking off when Mark rocks deeper into him. Mark lets go of his legs, expecting Kyle to hold himself in the right position. Kyle wraps his legs around Mark’s waist and tries to pull him in closer.

Mark doesn’t move unless he wants to be moved, though, so he just grins at Kyle and holds still. He waits until Kyle is rocking back against him before drawing out almost all the way, then thrusting back in hard enough that they both groan.

He doesn’t let up after that. Mark is a ridiculous perfectionist, and he uses everything he’s learned over the time they’ve been doing this to make Kyle fall apart. He mouths at Kyle’s nipples, bites the soft spot just under his ear, pulls his hair, his eyes dark with fierce determination.

Kyle tries to reach down to jerk himself off, but Mark grabs his wrist and pins his hand above his head. He slides his hand up just enough to press his palm against Kyle’s and hold him down like that. Kyle inhales sharply and laces their fingers together, his eyes fluttering shut.

If he wanted, Kyle could use his other hand to get off. He doesn’t. Instead, he uses his free hand to pet over his chest and make himself shake. 

The hand Mark isn’t using to keep Kyle pinned closes around his cock. His hand is slick with lube, adding to the wetness already there thanks to Kyle’s precome. Kyle’s hips jerk at the touch and he opens his eyes.

Mark’s face is so close, his lips red and bitten from when he tried to muffle his noises, the blue of his eyes almost black and blistering hot on Kyle’s face. His dark hair is sweaty with exertion. Kyle wants to get his hands in it, so he does.

He weaves the fingers of his free hand through Mark’s hair, his grip tight like he’s trying to hold on and keep himself from drifting away. Mark gasps, losing his rhythm a little.

Kyle stares at his mouth. “Kiss me?” he blurts. His eyes widen when he realizes what he’s said. He bites his lip, prepared to take it back, braced for Mark to pull out and tell him to leave, but then—

Then Mark kisses him.

Kyle’s eyes go even bigger in shock before falling shut. He muffles a moan against Mark’s mouth, relishing the warmth of his lips and the softness of his tongue, the faint sting of his teeth when he grazes them over Kyle’s bottom lip.

Mark slips his tongue into Kyle’s mouth and twists his wrist where he’s jerking Kyle off, and Kyle’s head falls back against the pillow as he arches his back and comes with a choked cry. Dimly, he’s relieved that Mark’s condo has good soundproofing, because he’s  _ way _ too loud.

Mark fucks him through it, the movement of his hips stuttering before he drops his head to Kyle’s shoulder and comes with a groan.

They don’t move for a long moment, waiting to catch their breaths. Kyle runs his fingers through Mark’s hair until Mark lets go of his hand and pushes away. Kyle shivers when he pulls out, thighs twitching around Mark’s hips.

Mark gets rid of the condom, then looks at Kyle for a long moment. The intensity of his gaze is startling, but Kyle doesn’t look away.

It isn’t really a surprise when Mark leans down to kiss him again.

This kiss is softer, slower than the one before. This kiss makes something warm flutter in Kyle’s belly, something that he thinks should scare him but doesn’t.

Mark rests a hand over the centre of Kyle’s chest. He doesn’t push down and he doesn’t stop kissing him. It’s like he’s just feeling Kyle’s heartbeat.

Kyle closes his own hand around Mark’s and presses up into the kiss. Mark cups his cheek, tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, and finally pulls away. He doesn’t go far, just backs off for a moment to breathe.

He finally rolls off Kyle to sprawl beside him on the messy sheets, the movement forcing Kyle to let go of his hand. Kyle stares up at the ceiling and licks his lips, his hand still loosely curled over his sternum.

With a deep breath, Mark gets up and stumbles out of the room. Kyle hears the sound of water running a second later.   


Alone, Kyle reaches up to touch his lips. He exhales and feels the warm puff of air against his fingertips. Now that he can think about it, about how they’ve never kissed before, how kissing has never been part of their arrangement, how the kisses made him  _ feel, _ a cold, shadowy feeling creeps over his mind.

_ Mistake, _ he tells himself, _ mistake, mistake, mistake. _

Mark doesn’t want to kiss him, not really. They fuck because it’s easy. It’s convenient. Nothing about that includes kissing, and sure as hell not the kind of kissing Kyle wants.

Kyle realizes that he can’t remember the last time he closed his eyes and thought about Patrik’s blue eyes instead of Mark’s.

He feels almost sick. It’s too late to go home now, though, so he pulls the blankets up and rolls onto his side to face the wall. He squeezes his eyes shut and pretends to be asleep. It’s hard to control his breathing, but he forces himself to relax when Mark comes back into the room.

He hears Mark murmur something softly to himself, but he doesn’t know what. He listens as Mark gets ready for bed, the sounds quiet and familiar.

The realization of how comforting that familiarity is jars Kyle again. When did he let himself get used to this?

Mark’s fingers brush over his forehead, pushing back a few stray strands of Kyle’s hair. Kyle almost gives himself away and opens his eyes, but he doesn’t. It’s a nice gesture, anyway. That hair was tickling him a little.

The mattress dips when Mark climbs into bed behind him and stretches out with a sigh. Kyle is struck with the desire to roll over and curl into Mark’s side, wrap an arm around his waist and fall asleep pressed together.

He  _ wants _ to wake up in a mess of tangled and sweaty limbs with Mark, just like they’ve been doing for weeks, but he wants it to be  _ real,  _ for it to  _ mean _ something. He wants to watch Mark’s face scrunch while he wakes up, he wants the morning after, he wants—

He wants everything.

This time he can’t stop himself from shivering. Mark seems to think that must mean he’s cold, because he scoots closer and wraps an arm around his waist. He presses his nose against the back of Kyle’s neck and Kyle thinks he feels Mark’s lips brush against his skin. 

It’s probably his imagination.

Kyle keeps his eyes shut and his breathing even and, eventually, he falls asleep.

He dreams of electric blue eyes and dark hair sliding through his fingers.

Mark is gone when he wakes up. He can’t be far, considering this is his place, but Kyle is alone in bed with cold sheets twisted around his legs.

He lies there for a long moment, staring at the wall. He feels a little sticky and there’s something uncomfortable sitting heavy in his chest. He has to leave.

He doesn’t bother washing up before pulling his clothes on.

Kyle makes it to the door without Mark noticing, but Mark must hear him when he’s trying to get his shoes on. His hands are shaking enough that it’s hard to tie his laces.

“KC?” Mark calls.

Kyle freezes. He doesn’t reply.

“I, um, I’m making breakfast if you want—oh.” Mark steps out of the kitchen and sees Kyle putting his shoes on. His jaw tenses.

“I gotta go,” Kyle lies.  _ I want to stay.  _ “I’ll see you around.”  _ Ask me to stay.  _ He won’t be able to say no if Mark asks.

Mark doesn’t ask. Instead, he nods and looks away, fiddling with the spatula in his hands. “Okay,” he says stiffly. “Bye.” He goes back into the kitchen without waiting for Kyle to leave.

Kyle scrambles to tie his shoes and grab his coat, then he goes outside to call a cab. He  _ knew _ the kisses were a mistake.

He lifts a hand and touches his lips, remembering how it felt to kiss Mark. He’d do it again, if he could. He knows he can’t.

His apartment is cold and silent when he gets back. He kicks his wet boots off in the entryway but leaves his coat on, shuffling into the living room and flopping onto the couch. He doesn’t bother turning up the temperature; the heat will come on by itself soon enough.

He stares at the ceiling and wonders when he lost control.

* * *

MS

Kyle is avoiding him. It takes a couple days to really figure out that that’s the case but once Mark realizes it, he can’t stop noticing all the small ways Kyle finds to stay away from him.

They never sat together on the plane or the bus, so there’s nothing unusual about taking their customary seats. It’s when they’re on the bench and Kyle makes an effort to have somebody sit between them that Mark thinks something is up.

He tries texting Kyle, asking him to come over, but Kyle turns him down. Even on their next roadie, Mark raps lightly on Kyle’s door and hopes for an answer. He goes back to his room in a hurry when he hears Jack and Mason laughing around the corner, not wanting to get caught. He knows those two have suspicions about Kyle; Kyle told him as much.

The door always stays closed. Mark tries to tell himself that Kyle’s just tired, that he fell asleep early. 

It gets harder to convince himself the longer it goes on.

Mark hasn’t been sleeping well. He’s always liked to have the temperature turned low for sleeping, but he likes it that way because it’s so much more pleasant to feel warm and cosy when he wakes up. Now, he wakes up alone, so much colder without Kyle in his arms. 

He tries to tell himself it’s for the best. They were never supposed to be anything, anyway; just friends helping friends. Mark had hoped that Kyle coming to terms with Patrik and Nikolaj’s relationship might make him open to the idea of being with Mark.

It had been going well at first. He’d held Mark’s hand during the movie and in the car on the way home, and he’d practically begged for Mark to kiss him. He’d been soft and pliant underneath Mark, kissing him eagerly and clinging tight to his hair. 

But the next morning something changed. Kyle had tried to leave without saying goodbye, his face pale and his eyes wide when Mark caught him, and now he has hardly spoken to Mark outside of hockey since then.

Mark is, in a word, miserable.

He thinks Blake has noticed. He knows Blake would be happy to talk to him about this, but Mark doesn’t know how to explain his situation without bringing up the reason that he’d started hooking up with Kyle.

Mark is worried this might affect his play. He hasn’t been sleeping well, tossing and turning for what feels like hours before slipping into a restless doze. He knows he has to do something about this before it gets out of hand.

They’re in Vancouver when he decides it’s time for things to change. He skates up to the bench during morning skate, just to get a drink of water and Kyle, who’s been standing at the boards by the bench for a minute, flinches when he sees Mark and skates away without a word.

Mark stares after him, mouth half-open in shock. He wants to skate after him, demand a real explanation for why he’s being ignored, not be left guessing. He can’t do that here, not surrounded by the team. He clenches his jaw and looks away, trying to drive the image of Kyle’s pale face out of his head.

Blake catches up to him back at the hotel, his expression grim. “Scheif,” he says, “we need to talk.”   


He’s right, so Mark just sighs and nods shortly. He follows Blake up to his room with one last look at Kyle. Kyle is talking to Jack, laughing at something Jack is saying but there’s something strained around his eyes that makes Mark think he’s faking it.

Blake sits down in the armchair in the corner of his room. Mark sits on the edge of the bed, hands folded in his lap. He waits for Blake to speak first.

Blake doesn’t waste time. “What’s going on with you and KC?” he asks bluntly.

Mark swallows and looks away, staring at his hands. “I don’t know,” he admits. “He’s avoiding me.”

“Did something happen?” Blake looks worried, and Mark knows he’s just as concerned for Mark and Kyle as his friends as he is for Mark and Kyle as his teammates.

Mark grimaces. He doesn’t want to overshare, but he’s desperate to talk about it with  _ somebody. _ “We kissed,” he says, his voice soft. “We hadn’t—we weren’t doing anything like that before. It was supposed to be just buddies. I think I messed it up.”

Blake leans forward. “Did he not want you to kiss him?” he asks.   


“He asked me to,” Mark says, and doesn’t that just sting? Kyle  _ asked, _ and maybe he changed his mind or maybe he realized he didn’t want it like that, but he asked all the same. “I wanted it. I thought he did, too.” His voice catches and he flushes, embarrassed.

“Have you tried talking to him about it?”

“He’s avoiding me,” Mark repeats. “I haven’t talked to him since that night.”

Blake rubs his jaw. “This doesn’t seem to have affected either of your playing abilities,” he says, “but I’d rather you and your winger be on speaking terms by the game tomorrow. And I’d rather my friends not be miserable.”

Mark nods. “I know,” he says, looking down again. A lump rises in his throat. “I’ll fix this. I promise.”

The bed dips as Blake sits down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I know you will,” he says. “When you love someone, you can make it work.”   


Mark somehow doesn’t flinch at the use of that word.  _ Love.  _ Does he  _ love _ Kyle? 

He thinks about it when he says goodbye to Blake and walks back to his own room, so distracted by it that he almost walks right past his own door. He doesn’t think he does. He thinks it’s too soon.

But he thinks he could.

He thinks he  _ wants _ to be in love with Kyle and really, isn’t that the whole point?

He sits on the edge of his bed for a long while, his knee bouncing as he stares at the wall and thinks.

It’s late afternoon by now. He makes his decision.

Kyle answers the door after the first knock. His face falls slightly when he sees Mark standing there. He opens his mouth, probably to make an excuse to leave. Mark doesn’t give him the chance.

He places his foot between the door and the doorframe and crosses his arms. “Get your coat,” he says firmly. “We’re going for a drive.”

Kyle’s jaw clenches, but he gets his coat and shoes on, pulling a toque onto his head before joining Mark in the hallway. His expression is that of a man walking to his own execution.

Mark tells himself to wait. He needs to be patient.

There’s an Uber waiting for them outside. Kyle gets in first and stares out the window while Mark talks to the driver. They remain silent on the short drive to the park. 

Kyle looks confused when the driver lets them out near the seawall, but he follows Mark anyway.

The air is cool; nowhere near as cold as Winnipeg. The breeze coming off the water smells like salt, sharp and fresh. It’s good to get out of the bustle of the city core once in a while. The path is deserted.

The sun is starting to set, painting the clear sky brilliant oranges and pinks. It’s a rare beautiful evening in Vancouver. It feels a little bit like fate.

They walk together in silence for a while until Kyle finally stops, staring out over the water before he speaks.    


“What is this, Mark?” he asks. His voice is quiet.

“I needed to talk to you,” Mark answers. “I can’t—I hate that you won’t talk to me. You’ve hardly looked at me these last couple weeks and it’s not—” He takes a shaky breath and rubs his face. “I just want you to talk to me again.”

Kyle is still looking out over the water. The setting sun lights up gold twisted in with the red in his hair and his eyelashes seem to glow. He’s more beautiful than any sunset Mark has ever seen.

“Is that all you want?” Kyle asks eventually. He turns to look at Mark, his eyes searching Mark’s face for answers.

“If that’s all you can give me,” Mark says. It’s his turn to watch the waves now. He thinks he can taste the salty spray on his lips, but it could just be his imagination.

Kyle makes a frustrated noise. “I’m sorry, okay?” He sounds upset, and he looks distressed when Mark looks at him again. His eyes are big and sad, and the corners of his mouth are tilted down. “I know I fucked it up.”

“What?” Mark feels wrong-footed now. “What are you talking about?”

Kyle shakes his head, scowling. “Wanting to kiss you,” he snaps. Each word is sharp, like he’s biting it off. “I know it wasn’t part of our—our thing. So I’m sorry.”

Mark gapes at him. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” he demands. “That’s it?”   


Kyle stares at the water and shrugs helplessly. “I didn’t want to expect too much,” he says, his voice wavering.

Mark’s chest aches. He doesn’t want Kyle to believe that he’s as unlucky in love as he thinks he is. “Kyle,” he says softly. He reaches out and takes Kyle’s hand, twining their fingers together.

Kyle looks down at their joined hands, then up at Mark, a question in his eyes.

Mark answers the unspoken question by leaning forward, close enough that he can feel Kyle’s breath on his lips. He waits, letting Kyle make the next move. He doesn’t disappoint.   


Kyle closes the gap between them slowly, pressing his mouth to Mark’s and sliding his free hand up to cup his cheek. Mark gets his free hand around Kyle’s waist, pulling him closer.

The kiss is slow and soft, and it takes a moment for Kyle to open his eyes when they part. Mark watches his pale eyelashes flutter before revealing his clear blue eyes.

Kyle rubs his thumb over Mark’s cheekbone, gaze drifting from his mouth to his eyes. “So,” he says, almost whispering, “what do you want now?”

“I want you,” Mark says, as honest as he knows how. “I want you all the time. Not just sex. I think—” He has to pause, taking a deep breath to gear himself up for his confession. “I’m falling in love with you.”

Kyle makes a soft noise, his fingers clenching around Mark’s. He sways into Mark’s space and kisses him again. The kiss tells Mark everything Kyle doesn’t say with words, and he smiles.

“Ask me out,” Kyle says, barely moving back enough to give himself space to speak. He nudges his nose against Mark’s. “Properly, this time. No more randomly abducting me from my home to go on a date.”

Mark laughs. That is basically what he did, in retrospect. He can’t bring himself to regret it, but Kyle does deserve better. “Go out with me,” he says, kissing Kyle’s cheek to punctuate his sentence. “I’ll take you wherever you want.”   


Kyle makes a face like he’s pretending to consider it. Mark pinches his waist.

Kyle brushes a kiss over his lips. “Wherever I want, huh?”

“You can have anything,” Mark says, and he’s not just talking about dating anymore.

Kyle’s answering smile, soft and open, shows that he knows that, too. “It’s a date, then,” Kyle says. He bites his lip. “Give me until we’re home so I can pick a spot, though.” 

Mark kisses the tip of his nose, then his mouth. It’s almost like now that he’s allowed to kiss Kyle, he can’t stop. “Anything you want,” Mark says.

Kyle grins against his mouth, and the knot in Mark’s chest finally comes undone.

They don’t spend much longer on the path; the sun is setting, anybody could show up, and Mark really wants to get into bed with Kyle. 

Kyle holds his hand in the car all the way back to the hotel, and he doesn’t even bother stopping at his own room before going into Mark’s.

After spending a while reacquainting themselves with each other’s bodies, they lie together quietly, spent and sated and comfortable. Kyle wraps an arm around Mark’s waist and rests his head on his shoulder, tracing patterns on his skin with a touch so light that it almost tickles.

Mark turns to kiss the top of Kyle’s head, leaving his face there a little longer than necessary so he can breathe in the scent of his shampoo.

“Thank you,” Mark says finally, partly muffled into Kyle’s hair.

Kyle rolls over, lying half on top of Mark so he can prop his chin on his chest and look at his face. He doesn’t need to ask what Mark is thankful for. “Thank you, too,” Kyle says. “I was scared it was going to be like that forever.”

Mark weaves his fingers through Kyle’s hair and pulls him in to kiss him. Kyle sighs softly into it, his fingers splaying out on Mark’s chest.

They finally part and lie down to sleep properly. Mark holds Kyle close, feeling his breathing slow as he falls asleep. Mark finds Kyle’s hand and brushes his fingers over his knuckles, smiling when Kyle mumbles quietly and leans back against him.   


There’s no place he’d rather be than right here, comfortable in bed with Kyle in his arms.

* * *

KC -  _ Epilogue _

_ i’m going to tell him today. _ Kyle looks down at the message for a moment, then he takes a deep breath and taps  _ send. _

Mark’s answer is prompt.  _ It’ll be fine, _ he promises.    


Kyle knows he’s right, but he wishes Mark were here. He’s been under the weather for a few days, so he’s taking advantage of the optional skate to stay home and rest. Kyle can’t exactly blame him, but he wants Mark to hold his hand and tell him that properly.   


He’ll take what he can get.

He taps Patrik on the shoulder before either of them leave the ice. “Can you meet me at the café near my place after this?” he asks. “You know the one.”

Patrik raises an eyebrow, but he nods and doesn’t ask for details. He knows he’ll be getting them soon enough.

It feels strangely familiar, getting out of his car and standing in front of the café. Like déjà vu. He looks up at the sign and breathes in deep before he goes inside. It’s been just under a year since the day he got his heart broken here.    


They’re funny things, hearts. Just like any other part of the human body, they can break, and they can heal.

Kyle didn’t really know that was possible before Mark showed him.

He can’t quite hide his smile when he thinks about that. 

He’s arrived before Patrik, so he finds himself a table. It’s not the same one they sat at last time; the café has changed their table setup. He orders a smoothie for himself and water for Patrik, and Patrik sits across from him a couple minutes later.

“Hey,” Patrik says. He tilts his head at Kyle. “What do you want to tell me?”

Kyle sets his smoothie down and folds his hands together on the table. “Last year,” he says, “you took me here to tell me that you and Nikolaj are dating. You said you wanted to tell me first because we’re good friends, and you trust me.”   


Patrik nods, eyes bright with curiosity.

Kyle spreads his hands out and takes a deep breath. “I wanted to repay you for that and tell you about…  _ this _ first.” He swallows hard. “Me and Mark are dating.”

Patrik grins. “That’s awesome, KC,” he says, kicking Kyle’s foot under the table. “I’m happy for you.” He narrows his eyes. “Details?”

Kyle laughs. “Maybe not  _ all _ the details,” he says.

Some things, he thinks, need to stay between him and Mark.

**Author's Note:**

> if you made it this far: thank you for enjoying My Boys. i thought this was gonna be 10k-15k so i got a bit carried away as you can see!
> 
> [tumblr](https://symphony7inamajor.tumblr.com)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/symphony7inAmaj)


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